(20 DPO) - Sick kitty...

AF is officially three days late. Come on, now. This is ridiculous. In the meantime, I'm so tired I can't keep my eyes open. I nearly fell asleep at the wheel on the way to drop off my rental and get my car from the shop. That's a pregnancy sign for sure, but I still don't believe this is viable. I'm so bummed out. I just wish AF would pop up and give me a break. See that test? Yeah, that was my FMU from this morning. Nadda, right? I keep thinking I see a line but it's most likely just my imagination. Go figure.

In the meantime, Tubbs, our 16-pound kitty, has become very sick. A week or so ago, she started peeing on my daughter's bed, prompting a lot of bleaching, spraying and cleaning on my end. She kept returning to the bed and spraying. Yes, she's spayed. We decided the best option was to close our daughter's bedroom door and have her sleep with us for a few nights while we work on the problem. After all, it's not like we don't have a car accident situation to deal with, a lawyer meet-up and a serious lack of funds due to me missing work to worry over. A cat peeing in inappropriate places was the least of our worries.

Once we closed the door to SJ's bedroom, Tubbs went right into the bathroom and peed all over the floor, one foot away from her litter box. What a spiteful little thing, we thought. My husband reacted by tossing her on the front porch. She's not an outdoor kitty, mind you, but we live in the country so she wasn't really in danger of getting hit. She sat on the porch and meowed pitifully. After about an hour, I felt pity on the kitty and brought her back in. After that, she decided to behave for a couple days. Then this morning, we woke up to discover her sleeping on the kitchen floor. She looked very rough. It was strange seeing her in the kitchen, since her

normal hang out is on top of the couch in the living room. I petted her and loved on her. We realized she was pretty sick and we needed to get her some help. Since we had to leave early to exchange vehicles, we decided to get it done once we got home. I called ahead to the shelter we adopted her from and let them know we were coming (they have a vet clinic inside). By the time we got back, however, Tubbs was looking even worse. She hadn't moved from her spot on the kitchen floor. Not a good sign.

I moved her over to the couch so she'd be comfy while we got everything together. While my husband was getting our daughter dressed to go see her grandma, I was trying to find our cat carrier. I came back into the living room, stumped, and then I witnessed poor Tubbs attempt to vomit, but all she could get out was bile. Afterwards, she collapsed down the back of the couch. I ran to get her. Her legs were up in the air and she was barely breathing. I said "forget the carrier, I'm getting a blanket." So I grabbed one of SJ's old blankets, wrapped Tubbs up and hurried to the truck. I put her in the seat next to me. She was barely alive at this point. I rushed as fast as I could to the vet clinic, which is pretty hard when you drive a manual and traffic is horrible.

So we get there, I come rushing in, and they tell me to have a seat. After waiting for nearly 45 minutes, I went up to the secretary and told her my cat was near death at this point. They finally rushed her back, but I wasn't allowed to go. I sat in the waiting room for 15 minutes before a nurse came out and told me the prognosis was grim. They didn't know what was wrong with her and they didn't have the facilities to properly care for her since they're a non-profit organization. God. I started crying. They took me back to see her, where they had her hooked up to an IV and an oxygen mask. They told me that her sister, Sissy, the cat we didn't take, was in there a few days prior with the same symptoms. I was relieved to hear it was likely not something we did wrong but I was upset to know we were the ones who separated her from her sister. I had to remind myself that we wanted to take Sissy but she wouldn't go in a box and had an all-around horrible attitude and it was the shelter assistant who said she'd be willing to separate the two.

So we narrowed it down to separation issues or a UTI due to the peeing everywhere or a combination of both. Her temperature had dropped to a dangerous 94 degrees (when normal for a cat is 100-101). I had to sign her over to them since I have $2 to my name. I felt terrible but they re-assured me it was the best thing for her. I made them promise to contact me if she died or if she lived. They said if she lived, they would give me the opportunity to re-adopt her. 

I left the shelter crying. At least I got to say goodbye. I truly felt terrible. I really loved that cat.

Tubs & Crocket

The new additions to our family are adjusting well. 

Cannaday, or "Crocket" as she's now called, is definitely more social than lard-o cat. Her new favorite place is on or under our bed.

Missy, or "Tubs" has warmed up as well. I gave her a lovely "welcome to the family" kick in the face while sleeping the other night. I had no idea she was under the covers. 

The three of us spent the afternoon binge-watching Big Love. Tubs laid on my lap for hours while Crocket hung out on top of the recliner. I'm really liking these cats. They've got a lot of chill.

I'm not pregnant, so I did the next best thing!

I adopted two cats!

My transformation into a crazy old cat lady is nearly complete. All I need is about three more and fifty years and that should do it.

But seriously.

My husband and I had been talking about getting a pet for our daughter to grow up with. I'm unsure if it's the fact she's a kid or because she came from my genetic material but she loves animals with a burning passion. We discussed a dog but ultimately decided on a cat since we're both gone for long hours from the house at work and, although we have a large yard, we don't have a fence.

Two days ago, we headed down to our local no-kill pet shelter. They had a whole room-area blocked off where you could play with the kitties available for adoption. I was in heaven. One kitty, Cannaday, approached us and was very warm. I also loved another cat, Missy, who was a fat blob of love. She was one hunk o'kitty. I wanted to cuddle her all day. My husband lovingly referred to her as "fat-ass kitty".

We went home after filling out an application. 

After finding out we were approved, the three of us headed down to the shelter today. My daughter immediately bonded with Missy. The two of them fell in love through the bars. I was still loving on Miss Cannaday and having a tough time making a decision. Missy was ready to clobber my toddler child with love and possibly knock her out with her royal fat-ness.

We were ready to tell the volunteers we'd found our match when we found out that Missy was one-half of a bonded pair. If we were to adopt her, we'd have to take her less-than-pleasant sister, Sissy. My daughter seemed to really like Sissy as well, bringing her offerings of kitty toys. We talked it over and decided we'd take the sisters, even though we hadn't planned on more than one animal friend. I felt extra guilty when I found out Cannaday had been at the shelter the longest of her roommates - 6 months. I couldn't figure out why no one had taken her home and I longed to take her too.

Missy was easy for the shelter volunteer to get into a box. Her sister, on the other hand, was less than cooperative. She didn't want to be picked up, even when she was blinded by a thin blanket. The volunteer even tried picking her up by the scruff of her neck, but she was finding it difficult due to the fact she had a fat neck like her sister. It was obvious who had been getting the extra kitty treats.

Twenty minutes later with no success, my husband and I exchanged looks. I wasn't feeling very certain about this decision. My daughter was having a fit running back and forth on the outside of the caged room, trying desperately to let me know there was a "kee kee" stuck in a "baux". I wasn't paying attention until we all heard it - Missy had torn her way through the box, angry and annoyed. I can't say I blamed her. She would have been home with us at that point if it wasn't for her stubborn sister.

While one volunteer went to get a new box, the first one turned to us and said, "You know what? I'm willing to let Missy go without her sister. I don't want to deny her a good home because Sissy won't cooperate."

I was feeling relieved of her decision because I was sure I didn't want a cat that could possibly attack my daughter.

As we were getting the paperwork together, one of the volunteers said, "You know, you were willing to take a second kitty home and I know you really bonded with Cannaday........."

Dot dot dot

Awkward silence.

Oh hell, why not?

We boxed up Miss Cannaday and within five minutes we were on our way. Each cat cost us $30, so $60 for the pair, but that included all up-to-date shots, de-wormings, de-other bad stuff and even micro chips. What a deal.

On our way out the door, I asked a volunteer what the cats' stories were. Apparently Missy and Sissy were in the shelter for a while until an old lady took them home. Within a year, the old lady died and the cats had to be returned. Cannaday was found in the basement of an abandoned house after someone heard kittens crying. She was in there, dirty, with six kittens to feed. The people who found her apparently took the kittens and turned Cannaday in to the shelter. That was nice of them. The shelter automatically fixes all animals they get so we didn't have to worry about either of them getting loose and adding to the cat over-population problem.

So here I am, typing this update with Cannaday lying next to me on the couch. 

Missy hasn't moved from under my daughter's bed since we got home. I nudged a bowl of food under the bed in case she needed a midnight snack.

Which I'm sure she will.

Ha, fat joke. See, I can make that joke because I'm fat.

You shush.

Anyway, both cats will warm up to us. Cannaday's already doing great. I'm thinking about changing her name to Caroline.

Here are their photos from the shelter's website:

Cannaday looking like me when it's that time of the  month and I'm just not dealing with your bullshit.

Cannaday practicing her eavesdropping

Missy being an adorable fat-ass